


Home Is Where The Hamper Is

by wingsofbadass



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Too Much Laundry, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 05:01:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5526371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingsofbadass/pseuds/wingsofbadass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jean comes home from work, he wants nothing but to fall into bed. He doesn't exactly expect the bed to be taken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Is Where The Hamper Is

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inverted_typo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inverted_typo/gifts).



> Merry Christmas, dear inverted_typo! I hope you enjoy this fluffiness!

Jean's feet were about to fall off.

Groaning, he dragged himself up the stairs of the apartment building they lived in, step after agonizing step. He fantasized about calling Marco and asking him to come get him, maybe give him a piggyback ride up the last two flights to their apartment. It would be pretty romantic, he thought as he climbed. He could lean his temple against Marco's as he relaxed against that solid back, sighing with the relief of taking his weight off his aching feet after a seemingly endless double shift at the hospital. Marco would carry him effortlessly, telling him "I've got you" in his rich voice.

The price Jean would have to pay was his dignity, however, and that was something he wasn't willing to give up. So instead, he wobbled up the stairs with longing thoughts of falling into their soft bed, until he finally reached the tiny studio apartment on the fourth floor.

When he unlocked the door, he was greeted by the sight of Marco sitting in the middle of the bed, surrounded by what looked like every single piece of laundry they owned, and watching _How I Met Your Mother_.

"Hey, babe," Marco called without taking his eyes off the TV set, while he folded Jean's Spider-Man shirt and then set it gently on top of a neat stack of clothes.

For a moment, Jean stared at the heaps of clothing and sheets and towels spread chaotically over the only lying surface in their overstuffed home, contemplating if he should really do it, before he just let himself fall forward and flop on top of it face-first.

"Jean, no!" Marco yelped and began to shove at Jean's side as though trying to edge him off the bed. "You'll get everything dirty again! You're still wearing your scrubs!"

"I don't care," Jean grumbled into a nice-smelling towel, letting his eyes flutter closed in bliss. In the hope that it would be the last time he had to move for the rest of the day, Jean awkwardly toed off his sneakers, letting them thud to the floor.

"Come on, at least let me clear you some space." Now Marco tried tugging at Jean's arm to get him to move, but there was no way Jean was lifting even a single finger. Eventually, there was a resigned sigh from Marco, before he began pulling pieces of laundry out from under Jean's unmoving body. The little grumbles Marco probably wasn't even aware he was letting out made it difficult for Jean to keep a straight face. Soon, his lips were curving into a smile despite his best efforts.

"You're such a little shit," Marco laughed from above him, the sound warm with affection.

"It's not my fault you covered the bed in laundry," Jean mumbled with sleepiness already dragging at his words, slurring them slightly. "This is where humans sleep, not socks."

"Can't argue with that," Marco allowed, before gently sliding a hand under Jean's jaw to raise his head off the towel and remove it from under him. His fingers lingered, stroking slowly over Jean's exposed cheek, in a gesture so tender it made Jean's heart flutter. "Had a hard day?"

Jean hummed in confirmation. He wanted to tell Marco about the horror that had been his shift, but every part of his body felt so incredibly heavy, even his tongue. Next to him, he was vaguely aware, Marco went back to folding clothes. The sound of the TV was lower now, which meant Marco must've turned the volume down.

Jean suddenly became aware that there was no place he would rather have been in that moment. This was what he wanted; Marco just existing by his side like this, sharing this tiny space they called their own, this life they had together. As imperfect as this moment was, with his exhaustion and the ridiculous amount of laundry taking up too much space, he was so damn happy to be there and he wanted this feeling to last. He never wanted to forget how much Marco felt like _home_ to him, how much Marco meant feeling cared about and safe.

"Mmhhh-Marco," he murmured, blindly reaching out a hand and hitting what felt like a sweats-clad thigh.

"I'm right here," came the soft reply and then Marco's fingers were twining with Jean's, squeezing.

Struggling to open his eyes, he blinked up at his boyfriend who was watching him with a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. Jean knew that look well, he knew which three words Marco was going to say next, breathe them to him like nothing else mattered, maybe lean down to kiss them into his skin.

"Want a blowie?"

Caught off guard, Jean snorted out a laugh and turned onto his side. "What, on the clean clothes?"

Marco grinned cheekily. "Oh, you know me, I never waste a drop."

Jean returned the grin, eager. "Well, how could I say no to that offer?"

But Marco pulled his hand free from Jean's abruptly and went back to folding. "Yeah, if you want that blowjob, you better help me fold this stuff."

Jean gave an outraged gasp that was only slightly exaggerated. "Dude, that's just mean!"

"If you're good at something," Marco said sagely with one of Jean's pajama bottoms in his hands, "never do it for free."

"Don't quote The Joker at me right now!"

"It's legitimately good advice, you gotta give him that."

Feeling childish, Jean snatched up the pajama bottoms Marco had just laid on top of the nearest stack and tossed them onto the ground. Marco's glare was almost comical.

"You're gonna pay for that, Kirschstein."

With deliberate slowness, Jean marched his fingers over the duvet cover back to the stack of clothes closest to him, all the while fixing Marco with a challenging look.

"Don't you dare."

Jean grabbed the t-shirt on top, one of Marco's favorites to sleep in, and thew it across the room, where it landed on the bookshelf. A couple of seconds passed in which they stared at each other, unblinking, before they both grabbed for one another at the same time. With a sound that was half-shout, half-laughter, Marco lunged at Jean, pressing him back into the mattress with his weight, immediately ruining any chance Jean might've had by blind-siding him.

They wrestled with each other breathlessly, giggling and twisting and knocking clothes off of the bed on all sides. Usually, they were pretty evenly matched in strength, but with Jean's worn out body, the trembling of his arms was his doom after only a couple of minutes. Breathing hard, Jean let himself relax back into the sheets and looked up at Marco whose chest was heaving just a little as well.

"What am I gonna do with you now?" Marco mused aloud. His hands were around Jean's wrist, holding them like shackles on the bed. "You're at my mercy."

"I have a suggestion," Jean said, his pulse racing and making him feel more awake than he'd felt all day. "Kiss me."

Marco laughed again at Jean's bluntness and, unexpectedly, obliged him, leaning down to press their lips together. Content sighs blended into each other as they kissed softly, just the barest spark of passion burning where their mouths touched. The grip Marco had on Jean's hands loosened until Jean could slip his fingers into Marco's hair, tilting him just the right way to deepen the kiss.

"You did that for free," Jean rasped when they broke away a little to breathe.

"Yeah, I'm such a generous person," Marco replied, even though he didn't seem able to bring himself to take his lips off Jean. He dropped gentle little kisses wherever he could reach, each one a declaration on its own, before returning to Jean's mouth.

Jean could feel himself melting into the sheets. He was barely able to feel his limbs, the only sensations that remained were those of their kiss and the addictive tingling in his stomach. Their kiss had grown sluggish as the surge of endorphins from wrestling with each other wore off and Jean's eyes fluttered shut with tiredness once more.

"God, I love you," Jean murmured, unable to hold back those words he never tired of saying.

"And I love you." Words he never tired of hearing, either. Even though he'd been with Marco for years now, the knowledge that he'd found love like this, where their feelings mirrored each other's perfectly, was still a miracle to him. There was a balance between them he'd never dreamed he might find with a person and yet here he was.

"You should sleep," Marco whispered, warm breath tickling Jean's sensitive lips.

"Nah," Jean managed. "You owe me a blowjob."

Marco laughed at that, a sound as soft as a summer breeze, before nudging his forehead against Jean's. "After you wake up. Can't have you falling asleep in the middle of my world-class performance."

"Promise?" The word was barely more than a grumble, but Marco understood him, he always did.

"Promise."

Jean drifted off with the scents of fabric softener and Marco's skin filling his nose, the scent of home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
